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In Fate/Factitious Paradigm → 8 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
@Addamas @Reflection @Floodtalon @EnterTheHero


The Church


The fist that slammed into her was a powerful strike, a full swing of A-rank strength. Diluted as it was by the barrier of wind it was a blow that sent her flying away and brought stars into her world. An intensely painful clash, an intensely costly clash. Indeed, if not for the winds of Saber it was a blow that could have been called crippling to most servants.

With the saturation of the blasts neither Saber nor Berserker obviously escaped their impact, and Berserker roared out as some of Archer’s blasts showered them with energy. His skeletons leapt into their path, reducing the damage at the cost of their own selves as sacrificial shields.

Berserker himself continued to focus on Saber exclusively with the madness of his class. Swinging out at the wind slashes with his axes, his dematerialized one returning back in his hand. The attack of Saber was ripped apart and Berserker stared down the retreating Saber as she blasted around in her own defensive maneuver.

The message was clear, this was a battle that would not go very far. The concerns of his master, and the strange gathering of servants and masters brought to Berserker a new impetus, and so he retreated to the church to abandon the fight against Saber.

In Fate/Factitious Paradigm → 8 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
@Addamas @Reflection @Floodtalon @EnterTheHero @scallop @kyoka


The Church


The two spearmen surrounded Saber from behind as she flew in, the two archers dropped their bows that were deemed now to be useless with the revelation of Saber’s ability against projectiles, charging forth in a rush to grab at the servant from the sides so as to aid the Berserker, rather than simply get in his way. The rush of Saber was a miscalculation, eagerness brought on by her immunity to the attacks of Archer and some of Berserker’s soldiers. Her commitment would become that of one into danger.

Most of all however she underestimated the ability of the Persian Emperor to act himself. A weapon is an important thing, but a weapon that cannot be used was no longer useful. Even in his madness the Berserker understood such a thing. So he abandoned it. The axe faded into nothing, dematerializing and leaving Saber with no footing, tripping her up and reversing the momentum so that Berserker was now the one in the position to strike. At the same time Berserker swung up, an uppercut flying towards the servant’s chest to capitalize on the opportunity presented.

To retreat backwards was to choose the spears, the sides were taken up by the archers. Like the stampede of a war-elephant, Darius’s fist flew towards her.
In Fate/Factitious Paradigm → 8 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
@Addamas @Reflection @Floodtalon @EnterTheHero


The Church


The retreat was perfect in the sense that those who wished to harm his master faded away, as though mere grains of sand in a desert. With them gone, barely a memory to the berserker he found himself thinking once more of his rival. That man did not pursue him, but rather pursued the end of the world. The Persian Empire happened to be part of the world, his great obstacle to Okeanos. To be chased himself was an odd feeling to the Berserker, something that he felt even underneath the madness.

So when that servant appeared, blade in hand and rushing forth in a loud challenge he retorted with his own roar. If he himself would be chased down, if he, Darius the Third were challenged then he would bring forth his own might. The Berserker’s unrestrained dash towards the church ended, his massive bulk ripping a massive wound into the streets as he turned about to face the servant. His feet grinded against the floor and ruptured it, carving a groove a street long as he switched his intent from fleeing to fighting.

One may ask what difference that held from the challenge he brought to that man with the power of the Persian Empire.
In truth? It held none.

A number of ornately decorated skeletons manifested out of nowhere. It was not a matter of them growing from a ritual, or taking form with some dragon teeth. Rather, these dead soldiers, the Immortals, were the power of Berserker. It was then no surprise that they would appear just as easily as the berserker summoned his axes.

Seven appeared, two of them rushing into the winds with their spears. Against the strength of a servant they were shorn into half, crumbling into the winds as dust first before they dissipated as mere energy. The winds however did not advance further. Berserker picked up one of the skeletal soldiers in his massive hand and threw it directly at the slash. The clash tore the soldier to bits and dissipated the winds while peppering the mysterious servant with bone-shards.

With another roar Berserker charged forth, his motion not yet completely stopped, but forcefully reversed by the sheer demanding force he burst into new motion with. The shockwave of his dash sent bits of the pavement as deadly projectiles that peppered the area with craters and holes. A tree was shattered and fell to the ground, sundered. A lamp post whined as it was bent over and sent craning back into the ground.

Of course his soldiers were not motionless either. A duo of arrows flew towards the mysterious servant while the other two charged forth with as much reckless abandon towards the servant with their spears thrust towards her chest. Finally came Berserker himself, two gigantic axes forming in his hand as he swung directly at her, heedless of the fact that she held an invisible blade.
In Fate/Factitious Paradigm → 8 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
@Reflection @Manythings @Floodtalon @EnterTheHero


Fuyuki West, Bank -> The Church


Swarms, swarms, swarms.

They were loud, very loud. Loud like the armies of him numerous like the armies of him fast like the armies of him yet to compare them to anything like the armies of him were an insult to him and berserker himself.

They were not even worth fighting something whispered in himself. But that whisper was lost in the torrent of madness that clouded his mind.

His thoughts existed, his thoughts existed. Berserker thought and was the king he always was. It simply was buried under that which was forced upon him as a burden by his container. A Berserker that maintained his humanity to an extent. It was simply buried, unseen and unrecognized by any others.

However it made him a berserker easier to use. He was the large Emperor, the horned-king who fought not as a single hero but as the wielder of the might of a great empire and its even greater riches So he listened, and he moved as though he were a tool. He was a commander, he was a tool, a familiar.

With a roar Berserker burst through one of the nearby walls. His massive axes, almost matching the size of the swarms by their lonesome cleaved through the air,sending shockwaves that pulped their innards through their husks, and cleaved a few unfortunate bugs that drew near him.
▂▃▄▅▆▇██!!!
Perhaps another sort of berserker would have been delayed by such a swarm of familiars.

But he was not of that sort. Prioritizing completely the order of his master, Berserker appeared by the side of the mage swifter than the descent of the swarms. Rubble spraying everywhere from his passage shot like shrapnel, wrecking havoc everywhere save for where Xerxes was as Darius cleaved down the debris headed towards him into less than dust.

Berserker did not take the time to notice the group from the celling, or the various swarms already approaching. Taking Xerxes in one hand he simply retreated. Slipping away with his ability, it was beyond the means of such familiars to chase after him. With a leap that sent ripples through the very foundation of the building and threatened to collapse it like a earthquake, Berserker burst through where no bugs were.

If it were merely a matter of chasing after a servant slowed down by a human then perhaps with careful planning the escape could have been contested. But the Berserker was a legendary soul with many great anecdotes of retreat and rebuilding.

Berserker left nothing but the completely pillaged husk of a bank, ruined and destroyed, both physically as a structure and in its idea with its riches completely pillaged and the notion of its security demolished.

Following his masters orders, they retreated to the church of Fuyuki, hoping for sanctuary. For whoever who discovered them would surely not pursue them into such sacred territory?
In Fate/Factitious Paradigm → 8 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Tesla is approved.
In Fate/Factitious Paradigm → 8 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
In Fate/WarGames (A Fate/RP) → 8 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Mistakes were made
In Fate/WarGames (A Fate/RP) → 8 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Team Black | Caster - Claude


"The matter of a wish matters not if we do not manage to survive or win, boy." the robed spirit suddenly called out to the unexpected newcomer. "It certainly did not matter to the lord you disposed of in the end, did it?"

With a wave he dismissed the concerns of Yuri, or rather, bade him to leave them for later.

“If we are to set up a headquarters… as our esteemed host suggests, then I shall lead the way.” The servant spoke without reservation. “Yes, I know the perfect place. A place well-suited for our efforts as a team.” and of course, especially for himself. “

“It is not a terribly old place, all things considered. But its suitability for the purpose of this ritual is second to none. A place separated from the rest of the city, a place suitable for our various mysteries. While it is only a mere decades old it is exceptionally compatible with the fortifications I am to offer. Ah, of course I must introduce myself first before I am to be a guide.”

With a smile he raised a hand. A frame was knitted with magical energy, the processes of a creation being run through in his mind. To make a map was not beyond Caster’s abilities, and so it could be replicated through magecraft.

The gathering of pigments, the dispersant, solvents.. The tanning and stretching of the hide of a beast. Drawing, observing, seeing the city. All the steps were played out in his mind, the process of creation carried out.

Yes, to project something was in a sense the same as creation.

A massive map coalesced into existence in the hands of Caster. He sent a slight smile to his master as he watched it roll out into something akin to a carpet, covering the floor and even going as far as to roll over the feet of a few of the masters.

He pointed at a certain island. “There, at the Berlin Cathedral we will be gathering. Our efforts will likely be blessed, and from a more practical point of view of a magu-ahem… heretic, it is a place most suited for mysteries.”

Caster simply began to walk away without further word or elaboration. Nor did he wait for a response. Was it that he expected them to follow like a herd? Was it that he simply did not care whether or not they accompanied him. But what was certain was that the servant of magic paused only to call out to the knight that accompanied him. “Come now, master. We have much work to do.”

--

The establishment of a territory, the creation of bounded fields. There was much work to do, and little time to rest. A simple enough matter to insert themselves, and any number of guests into the Cathedral. While he decided to keep his usage of hypnotic suggestions to a minimum, there was no harm in using such magecraft upon the ones who were of the church.

Well, it was simply easier this way he explained to his master. It was simply a matter of making sure they do not see odd things or pry. Minimum interference was required due to their already existing authority and sanction by the church.

Walking in the holy halls Caster felt a certain melancholy, a certain twinge of regret. He was no evil man, he was a righteous man. Yet... that ignoble end, the tortured life he led. There was good in it, there was bad in it.

Yet the blotch of a stain upon his life that woman was at the end of his life was a deep one, a pigment of desire and sin that spread and covered up everything. In a sense that woman came to define him, in a sense that woman took everything that was Caster and erased it. Now he was simply a fool ruined by love, with all that came before meaningless.

Ah, he truly ****** her.

As Caster set up his territory church bells began to ring, echoing throughout the city. A great presence was filled in those deep echoes that invoked a certain famous other cathedral, and perhaps a touch of a forbearance even a normal person could feel.

Yes.

War had come to Berlin, and perhaps these bells marked the beginning of a fall.

Without further adieu Caster began his work in the church that became his workshop. The first order of business was the creation of homunculi helpers. After all they would make the work go quicker. Then came the construction of various other bounded fields. His homunculi were able to make more homunculi and aid him with such tasks. Of course there were a few created to physically reinforce and redesign the cathedral so as to truly make it a stronghold.

In a sense their base was truly the Cathedral, but the island itself was their/his territory. Seperated from the world, truly this was an island of god, an island of ghosts, an island of mystery. Today, legends invoked and brought back to the living world walked among the halls that showcased history.

Welcome to Museum Island. Welcome to the Berlin Cathedral. Let the bells of Notre Dame sing of war and sin. May we be protected by the flames of the hell of our own creation.

Amen.
In Fate/WarGames (A Fate/RP) → 8 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

Team Black | Asheckalva Zabolruju


A normal man may have asked him why does he walk normally.

Why does he simply trod in puddles and dirty streets when he could fly or ride as though he were nobility.

Why did he walk instead of sparing the funds to have a comfortable drive? With his fortune he could afford a pleasant time and do well for himself even in this city that was driven into fervor and want due to its destitution.

The golems that traveled with him were the only signs that he was anything but a normal man. Covered in drapes more suited for storage containers, and holding enchantments that repulsed those that could only be called normal. It was partially thanks to them that the streets happened to be so empty in his wake, leaving his path unobstructed, allowing the man to travel without a single delay.

All the better since he was walking the entire way to take stock of the city. Potential places to harvest for materials, the simple flow and traffic. Of course the sense of its (suffering) business side was important. Money was a facilitator, and a means that was at times the ends for people who never were able to discover their dreams.

To understand the flow of people was important for attaining success so one could in turn avoid dealing with them. Yes, to understand people was needed to distance one’s self away from them. A thing that sounded most contradictory, but perhaps not if one viewed philosophers and men with insight. The great author who wrote tragic stories was but one example of a pessimist who understood the nature of things.

This man was no misanthrope, nor a pessimist.

It was simply that it was tiring, a distraction.There were good things of man, terrible things of man. But that was not a thing that mattered as much to him. His was not the place of one who worked with others. He was the lone crafter who would make things beyond man, make things below man. The things of great power and wealth that walked like a strange vanguard, hidden and yet out in the open held a strength beyond man and yet were limited as creations of man.

If humans were weak then let them make things that are strong.

Yet as men fight each other what was strong will become weak as they continue to advance further and further. Civilization continued to advance and now the ability to destroy and create both has reached a grand scale unthinkable by any other era.

Golems were a reenactment of the creation of man by god. An inferior adam.

His Golems were the domain of an angel, a shade of a higher-order being.
Beings that were both above and below humans. Such a thing could not be called a beast, such a thing could not be called god.

To hang between earth (man) and heaven (gods) was to be a lone star. A beautiful and lonely existence that could see all of creation and understand what was beyond the mentality of both. In other words a keystone, in other words those who see.

His golems were not people and did not reach that level of existence.

Yet the nature was still in a sense the same.

The path to all lied within the stars. Above humans, and yet not completely divorced. There he will achieve nothing. There he will achieve 「」

He had asked Assassin what they thought of his nature, of his path. He was both a product of the path, and a man who pursued it. Made to continue it and an individual who saw it as something worth continuing. He toiled for the future and yet hoped to be the one who would be the end of this line.

Ah, Assassin was not a being he hated. Indeed, they were the personification of a composure and purity that could be appreciated by any true magus. There were those who saw the world for how it was. There were those who saw into the heart of things, and there were those who told others the truth that laid plain as day and hidden both.

-

One golem had already been present as his eyes. In the shape of a bird, it was a scouting model rather than one optimized for fighting. Or rather, it was a scouting configuration that was born out of a certain part of Bereshit.

Through it he saw those that arrived. Through it he saw the worn down warehouse that was their meeting place. How unsightly. Yet there was no sense in gathering somewhere that mattered if they were not to take it as their workshop during their stay in the city for the war.

His use of the masters clairvoyance help identified the different attributes of the servants. While not a complete view of their capabilities, or identities it was still a good measure. Together with that information he found that those that were gathered so far were a group of pairs that he found much to comment on.

What seemed a member of the church, the knight who was most likely a templar. Accompanied by a Caster class servant she was likely to be fighting herself. He was certainly glad that he would not have to oppose such a thing.

A woman who walked in creating ice so as to not get wet.

What a farce. Assuredly not a magus. Perhaps a newcomer to the magical world that did not understand magecraft? A woman who was an esper?

She was the most unpleasant right off the bat.

There was the odd man who was certainly not one of the men he was told of. There was an odd bearing to him that he could not quite pin down. A hard to read man. But he could not tell if he would be a most annoying one, less than others.

Then there was a child with the features of a jew. Quite frankly he was not sure as to why such a young child would come out here. One who should still be learning, one who barely would have inherited their lines magic crest. Well, perhaps she was an abnormal monster who simply remained, or became a child once more despite being old. But yes, who indeed was this young one that would come h-Oh yes. He remembered now. Yet he found that it did not dispel his confusion. A foolish quest of a child he felt.

Taking stock of those who were present he entered in silence. The man made his entrance with six golems walking to his sides. Two in the shape of man, two as a strange creation with long spider-like legs and a center mass that was like a wheel. A final two that were hulking beings of stone meant only to fight.

There was no need to introduce himself. With those golems his identity could only be of one man. Asheckalva Zabolruju.

"This ice is an eyesore." he commented as it cracked under the weight of his creations. "I pity the one who wasted magical energy and utilized a mystery for such a trivial thing. One may as well burn their books of research notes for fuel for the fireplace if a morning was extra chilly at that rate."

He shook his head after sending a quick glance over at the woman that he already knew to be the source.

"But there are greater concerns. Let us begin. I am the master of Assassin. Once we have all gathered let us decide upon a place to wage this ritual from."

To state the class of his servant now was both a waste of words and not. Others would come, but he would no doubt be asked by someone before they arrived. So he simply answered before that question would come out.

In Fate/WarGames (A Fate/RP) → 8 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Team Black | Master - Giovanna

The first day- no, night of the Holy Grail War. The concept wasn't completely foreign to Giovanna, as the ideal of "Magi fighting over a Holy Grail" was quite common. Even a bumpkin like her knew at least that much by virtue of being within the Holy See. Even that being said she barely understood what a magus was- a major disadvantage. Steel armor clanking with her stride, she made for the designated meeting area with due haste. Though it would probably be quite obvious how out of place she was to civilians, apparently Caster was concealing her presence.

Almost without thought, she kept her hand on her swords hilt at all times after entering the dank warehouse. A gentlemanly figure greeted her almost immediately upon her entrance. The Knight nodded wordlessly in response, before finding a suitable corner to loiter in until the other 6? "Masters" showed up. There really wasn't much for her to do at the moment, but any information about the Grail and the war around it would be useful to her. Giovanna took a moment to speak with Caster through their link, considering the lack of activity and eerie silence.

"Since we're waiting Archdeacon- what's a magic circuit?" A long wait it would be, so it would seem. Her first impression of Magi so far was that they liked to take their time. The Church wasn't wrong so far in painting them as unsavory people.


Team Black | Caster - Claude


“A Magic Circuit. Yes, indeed. A thing that is very important and very useful, and yet a thing that is something we should not know of.

As you yourself are one whose family works with the Eighth Sacrament you know very well how incorrect and heretical the practices of weaving miracles are. Yet in a sense they could be said to be what allows the entire process. There are some who liken them to an extra set of nerves. There are those who compare them to the various electrical wires that are the main facilitator of the movement of energy in this modern day.

It is through magic circuits that heretics encroach upon the domain of god. It is magic circuits that allow for magecraft. Of course, in the case of a blessed child of yours that is the reward for virtue your circuits are granted as a permission. Yet the theory in sense is, forgive me, the exact same. Although the composition likely differs. I will show you more examples when I make a homunculus in the future.”

Caster clasped his hands together and smiled. “In common perception, both in occultic lore and fables and stories a wizard casts a spell and shows his great power that is unbelievable and impossible for normal men, correct? Yet the truth in a sense is that no man truly casts magic. A magic circuit is more a connection to allow a spell to happen. You do not say that a wire brings the result of a machine, correct? Nor do you say that the electricity originates within the wire. A magic circuit is a converter for life energy into magical energy. In most cases that is the life energy of the world itself, Mana. Way more plentiful, permeating the environment. It is much better to make use of it than Od, the life energy of one’s self. It goes without saying that to utilize too much of one’s life energy is unwise. In the first place the amount of energy that you would end up with would usually be quite lacking in comparison. But there are times where you have utilized all the energy in your surroundings, or those gifted with great stocks of life energy.

Caster reached out to take a glass cup in hand, and nodded as he let magical energy flow through it. Even as a heretical Archdeacon, even as a servant he understood the most basic principles of a magus. As an example he was hardly wished to share mysteries. Magic was hardly a tool, and even the most advanced of magi or spellcasters rarely used their spells.

No, what Caster was doing was the most basic of things. The simplest element of utilizing magical energy, reinforcement.

“What we call spells are in a way a result brought forth by the world. A foundation, and a formula. To utilize spells is to create magical energy, and interface with a foundation through the means of self-hypnosis and knowledge. Foundations are engraved into the world through belief, and the formula could be said to be a specific spell.”

He dropped the glass, continuing to smile as instead of breaking on impact it simply fell with a number of thuds before rolling away. It landed against a outcropping of metal that was part of the skeleton exposed of the worn down warehouse. What should have completely shattered was not left with a single scratch.

“While this is not a matter of an actual magic, this is an application of magical energy to further fill out the meaning of an object. It’s called Reinforcement. It is perhaps a bit heretical to simply call sacraments a certain sort of foundation, and to equate it as magecraft… the simple fact is that there are proper things and improper things. For you it would be best to understand what comes of the disciplines and applications that are not barred to you. If you wish to learn more magecraft beyond the sacraments of our lord then I am not adverse to showing you further.”

He paused for a moment, a seeming moment of hesitation. Yet his smile never faded away, and in a sense there was some amusement in his words. The man who lived a pious life, the man who was dragged into the flames of passion and fell into darkness with Notre Dame. An Archdeacon who dabbled in sorcery and pursued various passions.

Perhaps he was curious to see what the woman would think of him. The tale of the Hunchback was one well-known, and it was in a sense the most eventful period of his life. Certainly it was what could be said to be the most dirtied part. Of passion, of desire, of a most dark fall.

A passionate man who secluded himself from society. A Deacon who turned to heresy, driven by a need to study and explore.

Yet there was no regret in his pursuit and in a sense he could only feel a deep something when he saw the gypsy woman hang. To be freed, liberated. Before that woman, that Esmerelda came he was simply content to pursue his knowledge, guided along a certain goal. He wrestled with his own demons with an iron-will and held himself to a standard of virtue that perhaps was part of what broke him. Oh, it all came tumbling down, tumbling down.

Thoughts of her were all that filled his mind. His entire being was set aflame in passion, in need. Love, hate, love, hate. Which was it really? Yes, he believed it was love, but perhaps it was a form of hate indeed?

Ah…

Yes.

It certainly was, something whispered.

Caster suddenly looked to his master after having stared into empty space for a few awkward and silent moments. “Ah, in the end you will find that for better or worse that I am a servant in the class of magic. As intended.”


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